


The Other Side

by randi2204



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-28
Updated: 2010-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-11 07:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/109990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randi2204/pseuds/randi2204
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a universe parallel to ours. Who's the Slayer there?  Who's the vampire that fought for their soul?  And what happens when that vampire visits ours?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Spawned from a challenge on Elysian Fields.
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters herein are the brain-children of Joss Whedon. No matter how I've twisted them, they're not mine, no money, and so on and so forth.

The Other Side

 

It was the best moment of her life.

 

_And isn’t it just my luck it would be at the very end of my life,_ she thought with no small hint of bitterness.

 

The sweetest words she knew she would ever hear – the words she had longed to hear for so long – had finally come from her beloved’s lips.  He’d said _I love you_, and for one second, everything disappeared.  There was no movement, there was no sound, there was no burning from the amulet or from the sun.  There was just him, just those words.

 

And for that instant, she believed him.  He meant it.  It was true.  It was _real_.

 

Then reality came crashing back.  The cavern was collapsing around them, and he was _still there_, still holding her hand, even as the flames danced around their fingers.  She knew he wanted her to run, to go with him.  _Oh,_ she thought, staring up into his bright, bright blue eyes and feeling the sting of tears in her own, _I wish I could, baby, but I_ can’t._  I’ve gotta stay, gotta do it right.  Gotta prove it to you…_

 

And there was only one way to make sure that he would be safe, that he would leave her there, no matter how it broke her heart.

 

“No, you don’t,” she whispered, giving him a tiny sad smile, “but… thanks for saying it.”

 

As if it had waited for just that moment, the earth shuddered again, jerking his hand away from hers, and she wanted to _weep_ as that connection was severed, and the flames that had burst out at his touch began to sear her flesh.  She bit her lip to hold the pain at bay.  He staggered back a few paces, staring at her in shock and confusion.

 

But he still wasn’t leaving, _and if you don’t leave,_ she thought, desperately afraid for him, _what was the point of me saying that? I want you to _live!  “Go!” she shouted, an outlet for some of the agony she felt, and the cavern lurched again.  Another wave of… of whatever it was that wouldn’t let her move pressed her back harder against the wall.  “Get out!”

 

She wanted to imagine that the look he gave her was as full of despair as she felt, that he really wanted to stay and go up in flames with her, but she wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ let herself.  _That’s just wishful thinking,_ she scolded herself firmly.

 

And then he moved.  He ran.  Part of her rejoiced that he would make it out and live the life he so deserved, and part of her felt nothing but heartache that it was so easy to push him away.

 

_But it’s always been that way,_ she remembered, trying not to let the hurt and regret overwhelm her.  _He’s always run from me, one way or another._

 

The light was still sprouting from the amulet on her chest, and she watched as he ducked under it, heading for the crumbling stairs to the upper level of the school.  She knew he was too far away, knew he couldn’t possibly hear over the roar of the cavern falling to pieces, but she couldn’t stop herself, and quietly murmured, “I wanna see how it ends.” And she just smiled serenely at the destruction all around her, because it didn’t matter anymore.

 

She’d known since the moment the amulet had tumbled into her hand that she wasn’t going to make it, not this time.  And this time – it just didn’t matter.  She had learned.  She had fought and struggled and bled.  She could die for him.

 

It was painful – every molecule in her body was screaming as it was pulled apart, but she didn’t waver.  And when the end came, when whatever it was that had protected her for so long in the sunlight finally gave out, Elizabeth the Bloody – the vampire known as Buffy – laughed as she crumbled to dust.

 

***

She wouldn’t have been laughing if she’d known she was going to come back.

 

At first, she wasn’t sure that’s what was happening; all she knew was brightness and something roaring all around her.  Then everything started to hurt, to _burn_.

 

All of the pain that she’d suppressed in the final moments of her existence came back ten-fold.  All of the elements of her body were being forced back together by some windy force that didn’t seem to care that they didn’t _fit_ anymore.  She shrieked, long and loud enough to hurt her own ears, just to release some of that _torturous pain_ that had overtaken her as she’d dusted. 

 

It didn’t help much.

 

It was all too bright, too loud, too _much_.  She couldn’t even form a coherent thought. 

 

And then it was over, and the wind that had sprung up only to blow gale-strong around her died away.  Panting heavily as reaction set in, she crouched in a defensive stance, eyes darting around, flicking from one unfamiliar face to another, barely able to concentrate on their words.

 

“Buffy.” The blond woman breathed her name in something like awe.

 

“Who?” asked a girl with dark hair, her lips painted bright red.  Buffy eyed her warily. 

 

_Oh, God, where am I?_ she wondered, trying not to let her thoughts fracture into a thousand brilliant pieces.  _Is it dangerous here?  Where’s Will?_

 

“One of the most notorious vampires that ever existed,” the blond woman went on, and Buffy couldn’t help but wince a little inside as the words struck home. 

 

_Must be a Watcher,_ she thought.  All of Joyce’s recent betrayals flashed in her mind, igniting a slow burn of anger.  _Gotta make sure I keep an eye on her._ 

 

The blond woman was still speaking.  “She’s second only to…”

 

“Only to me.”

 

The sound of Drusilla’s voice behind her – that accent so like Will’s, but stronger – brought her up short. Buffy spun around, surprised, and saw _her_ there, the vampire that had put Will through so much mental and emotional trauma, so much pain, that he hadn’t been able to see _Buffy_ except as something soulless and evil.  And even after everything she’d done, he _still_ loved Dru, had kissed her in that tomb…

 

Anger and hurt and jealousy and every other emotion she felt for her grandsire flooded her, overcoming the shakes that had kept her nearly immoble.  Without a pause for thought, Buffy vamped out and leapt toward Drusilla, snarling out her rage and intending to pound her into the next thing to dust.

 

She ended up sailing right _through_ Dru, landing awkwardly half imbedded in the heavy desk behind her.

 

“What the hell?”  She stood there for a moment, all kinds of stunned, staring down at herself.  It wasn’t long, though before she somehow managed to collect her wits and advance on Dru again.  “What did you do to me?” she growled around her fangs, using her most menacing tone.  _Because apparently that’s all I _have_ right now..._

 

Dru shuddered, one hand on her stomach where Buffy had just passed through her, and just stared at her.  “Nothing.  We didn’t do anything.”

 

“Then why am I here?” The anger died away as quickly as it had come, and reaction overtook her again.  She was barely able to control her voice, and couldn’t stop trembling.  She wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around herself, for comfort if not for warmth, but she couldn’t, not with Dru there, watching her for the slightest weakness…

 

“You came out of this,” the blond woman said, kneeling down to pick up a garish diamond-like pendant on a heavy chain.  “Have you seen this before?”

 

Buffy recognized the amulet immediately, and opened her mouth.

 

“What is it?” This from a guy – not much more than a kid – with bright blue eyes and dark hair.

 

“It’s something I gave to William in Sunnydale.” And there was an insufferably smug note in Drusilla’s tone, as if she were remembering that kiss, as if she _knew_ Buffy had seen them.

 

It snapped Buffy’s attention away from the amulet.  “Where is he?” she demanded, and didn’t care that her voice quavered, that she couldn’t keep herself from shaking.  _It’s just a reaction to coming back from dust,_ she told herself.  _It’s _so_ not important compared to Will._ “Where’s Will?  Is he all right?”

 

“They stopped in a few weeks ago,” Drusilla said, dark eyes twinkling with even darker humor.  “You just missed them, poor thing.”

 

“Is. He. All right?” she gritted out, catching Dru’s gaze and holding it.  The air seemed to shimmer between them in waves of heat, Buffy’s determination to _know_ battling against Dru’s desire to taunt.

 

Finally Dru looked away, and around them, Buffy heard a soft sigh of relief from Dru’s Scooby club, or whatever they called themselves.  “He’s fine,” Dru said, brushing some non-existent lint off her blouse.  “So were Joyce and Dawn and all the others who made it,” she added pointedly.

 

“I knew they were okay,” Buffy retorted, and shook her hair back over her shoulders.  She still didn’t feel quite right – _duh! Ghost, here!_ – but at least the shivering had subsided to a more manageable level.  “They’d already pulled out before the cavern came down.  Glad to hear about Dawnie, though.”  She stopped there; no sense letting the bitch know how attached she’d gotten to the Slayer’s little sister.

 

Then it struck her.  _Why am I here trading insults with Dru when I could be back with Will?_  “So, here’s a question,” she said.  “_Where_ is he?”

 

She affected a nonchalant pose as Dru’s eyes raked her up and down.  _Of course, Will would have told her where they were going,_ she thought, and tried to tamp down the jealousy curling around her heart.  Will told Dru things he wouldn’t ever tell _her_.  _Don’t be stupid, Buffy, you were _dead_, remember?_ she reminded herself.

 

Dru’s reply was careless, clearly designed to ignite her anger once more.  “I don’t know exactly,” she said, looking down at her perfectly manicured nails.  “The last I heard from him was an overseas call.  Europe, I think.”

 

“You can’t keep me from him!”

 

“He’s not mine to keep,” Dru replied, just loud enough for Buffy to hear.  For one second, Dru looked up at her, and Buffy was shocked at the misery in her face.  Quickly, as if realizing she was showing too much, Dru smoothed her expression to calm, with the expected hint of exasperation at Buffy’s presence.

 

Buffy opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again silently.  There was no way she could tease Dru, not when she knew just how her grandsire felt.

 

“Hey.” It was the kid, using the sudden quiet to his advantage.  “I hate to interrupt the touching reunion, but don’t you think that maybe we should find out what’s going on?  Why Blondie –”

 

“Buffy!” she interrupted indignantly.

 

“– er… Buffy popped out of that amulet all ghost-like?”

 

“And perhaps how the amulet got here,” the blond woman added, studying Dru closely, “when for all we knew it was lost in the Hellmouth.”

 

“So, scanner time?” the dark haired girl said, her brightly painted lips stretched in a grin.

 

The kid grinned back.  “Scanner time.”  He gestured to Buffy.  “Come on.  Maybe if we figure out why you’re all ghosty, we can figure out a way to get you all _non_-ghosty.”

 

For the first time since falling out of the amulet, Buffy smiled.  “That sounds good to me!  Scan away, kid.”

 

“Connor,” the kid replied, then gave her a sidelong look, his eyes blue and intense, but, Buffy felt, not a patch on the Slayer’s.  “Okay, so actually it’s Liam Seamus Connor Donnelly, but my parents were kind of overachievers in the name department.”  He led Buffy down wide beige corridors humming with fluorescent lights.

 

She smirked.  “And apparently very Irish.  Didja go to Notre Dame?”

 

Connor laughed.  “No way, I went to MIT, then started grad work out here, and avoided Notre Dame like the plague.  I’m in charge of the Science and Research division here at Wolfram and Hart.” He pushed open the door to the blindingly white lab.

 

_Wolfram and Hart? Now why does that sound familiar?_ Buffy wondered, as she moved to the place Connor indicated he wanted her to stand.

 

The rest of the group found out of the way corners to wait in, trying to stay out of Connor’s way as he waved his electronic thingamajig.  The blond woman took the opportunity to examine the amulet under a large magnifier.

 

“Well,” Connor said slowly, peering down at the computer screen.  “You’re not a ghost, precisely.”

 

“Then what, precisely, _is_ she?” Dru interrupted.  She was tapping her fingers against her crossed arms.

 

“Ghosts suck, for lack of a better term, light and heat from their surroundings, which means that the aura around them is always cold.  Around Buffy, there’s an area of warmth.”

 

“Are you saying you think I’m hot stuff?” Buffy asked, giving the kid her biggest grin.  “Aw, thanks!  I think you’re pretty cute yourself.”

 

Connor’s cheeks colored a little.  “You’re just a little above room temperature, anyway.  But no physical body – everything else suggests a spiritual being.  Not consistent with a ghost, but clearly… well… not all here.”  He winced and gave Buffy an apologetic look.

 

Dru gave one of her nastier laughs.  “I could have told you that.”

 

“What’s the matter, Grandma?” Buffy shot back.  “Feeling like your exclusive little soul-having club’s a little crowded?”

 

The blond woman looked up sharply from studying the amulet, her gaze pinning Buffy in place.  “Soul-having?  What do you mean?”

 

Connor and the other girl looked back and forth between Buffy and Dru, and Connor took a discreet step backwards.

 

It was Buffy’s turn for a humorless laugh.  “So the Wicked Witch of the West there didn’t tell you that I have a soul? That I saved the world?  You can’t say you didn’t know about the soul, Dru, ‘cause I heard Will tell you.”

 

Dru shrugged, seeming a little discomfited by the incredulous looks she was getting from her team.  “It didn’t seem important.”

 

“And isn’t that the story of my unlife,” Buffy muttered. Louder, she went on, “What’s the verdict, cutie?  Can you de-ghostify me?”

 

Connor shook his head.  “It’ll take a little time, I think.  I’ve got all the information I can get,” he added, lifting the scanner.  “I’ll see if there’s anything I can do.”

 

“You were connected with the amulet,” the blond woman said.  “Your essence, if not your physical body.  I’d like to ask you some questions about what happened in the Hellmouth…”

 

“Darla,” Dru raised her voice to override the blond woman’s.  “Can I talk to you for a moment?  And you, Connor.”

 

Abandoned, Buffy let her face settle into a pout, and kicked at the lab benches.  Her foot passed through the cabinet door and she sighed.  Quite clearly, she overheard Dru say, “... _not_ using Wolfram and Hart resources to…”

 

Just then, the dark haired girl stepped into her line of vision and looked her up and down, one eyebrow arched.  “So, Buffy, huh?”

 

Buffy gave her the once-over in turn.  Soft curls of thick brown hair, full lips, curvy figure outlined by a suit in which she clearly felt uncomfortable.  Her eyes were cold and hard, though, and there were a few lines in her pretty face, telling of a lifetime of hardship.  _Tough chick,_ she assessed, then gave her a smug little grin that she knew from experience was the most annoying one she had.  _She _wishes_ she could take me._  “Yeah?”

 

The girl jerked her chin in the direction of Connor and Darla, now conferring with Dru in the corner of the lab, not quite out of earshot.  “So B, you as bad as Doll-face made you out to be?”

 

_Loaded question,_ Buffy told herself, and studied her once more, head cocked to one side.  _She’s more than just the muscle._  “I’ve done some things I don’t like to think about,” she allowed.  “But just ‘cause I got a soul doesn’t mean I’m a pushover.”

 

“Yeah?”  The girl leaned in, close enough that if Buffy had had a body, they’d have been almost touching.  “Here’s your one and only warning, B.  You step outta line the littlest bit, give Big D any amount of grief and I’ll make sure you fit in a dust buster.”

 

“Yeah, whatever.” Buffy waved one hand airily.  “Like I haven’t heard _that_ a thousand times before from the Slayer.”  Bitterness spiked her heart for a second –_ just what the hell does Dru _do_ to get such loyalty? From this group, from the Slayer? She was always such a bitch to us!_ – but she pushed it down hard; she had some intimidating of her own to do.  “But just so you know, girlie-girl, I’ve taken down two Slayers and fought side-by-side with another for more than three years.  You’re not taking me without some serious backup and hey! I don’t see your army anywhere around.”

 

“Don’t let your mouth write any checks, Blondie,” the girl shot back, “’cause there’s _no way_ your lack of body is up to cashing… Hey!”

 

The girl’s expression morphed from mocking to shocked just as Buffy’s world faded into Hell.

 

***

Being incorporeal sucked more than anything she’d ever experienced. 

 

Being incorporeal _and_ stuck in the evilest of evil law firms with her broody twat of a grandsire and no way to reach the Slayer?  _That_ was a kind of torture that Hell only _dreamed_ it could have.

 

The windows, however, were very nice.  _And hey,_ she thought, _not being sucked into Hell anymore, so, bonus there!_

 

Buffy had curled herself in one of the window embrasures in Drusilla’s gigantic office, right up against the vamp-flambé-proof glass.  _I wish they all could be California girls,_ she sang silently, luxuriating in sitting in the sun after more than 120 years.  _I _so_ would have been a beach bunny in another life._ Then another thought struck her.  _I wonder if ghost-vamps still dust in direct sunlight?_

 

_That_ was definitely something she wasn’t looking to repeat, especially if she was just going to get un-dusted again.  Darla and Connor were still trying to figure out why she’d gotten trapped in the amulet in the first place, and they couldn’t guarantee that it wouldn’t happen again if she dusted. 

 

The coming back hurt worse than the dying.

 

_“Everything’s too bright and too hard and… and too violent.”  Will’s eyes were unfocused, as if he were staring at something inside himself, and Buffy felt an overwhelming urge to put her arm around him, to give the comfort that she knew wouldn’t be wanted.  But she wasn’t going to cry.  She _wasn’t._  “I was in Heaven and they pulled me out, and now I’m in Hell…”_

 

She shook off the memory.  That moment counted as one of the best and worst in her life all at once.

 

Trying to think of something – anything – else, she closed her eyes and willed the sunlight and warmth to leech into her, to give her some semblance of a body, but everything remained stubbornly ghost-like.  _Well, what did you expect, Buffy?_ she asked herself.  _It’s not going to be any different this time than any of the others.  At least not until the Brain Trust figures out how to re-bodify me. _If_ they can._

 

With a sigh, she slipped off the seat and through the blinds.  They didn’t even rattle; she passed right through them.  This, despite having been just solid enough – _or maybe just _scared_ enough,_ she allowed – to be able to write in the condensation on Connor’s mirror.

 

Dru was behind the big desk, busily shuffling papers around from one anally neat stack to another.  _Wonder what would happen if I gave one of those stacks a push?_ she thought, and grinned.  _Can’t hurt to try, can it?_  She stepped toward the desk, concentrating hard on being just a little bit solid, in the tips of her fingers.

 

“Don’t be naughty, Elizabeth,” Dru said without even looking up from her paperwork.

 

Caught, Buffy shoved her hands in her coat pockets.  “You never let me have any fun, Grandma,” she sulked.

 

Dru glanced up at that, and massaged the spot between her brows the way she’d seen humans do.  “How many times have I told you to _not_ call me that?”

 

She grinned and rocked up on the balls of her feet.  “Apparently not enough.”

 

“Have I mentioned how much I miss it now that you’re not getting sucked away into Hell anymore?”

 

“Only twice today, Granny,” she replied and leaned forward a little.  “I must not be annoying you enough.”

 

“Oh, you’re annoying me quite enough, Elizabeth,” Dru said, standing up.  “Why don’t you go play with your dollies… oh, wait, you can’t.”

 

She put on her best pout.  “You’re a mean old granny.  I hope some kids shove you in an oven.”

 

“Get.  Out!”

 

_Score so far for today,_ Buffy thought almost happily as she strode through the door, _Buffy – 6, Dru – 2._ 

 

Once outside, her good humor dissipated and she hesitated by Riley’s desk.  Riley glanced up at her and then back down to the next stack of papers he was going to pass on to Drusilla.  A_nd just how _did_ the big cornfed goof get to be Dru’s secretary, of all vamps in the world?_ she asked herself almost absently.  Most of her attention was focused on where to go next. 

 

As much as she wanted to go and prod Connor or Darla into a little more clandestine helping, if she did it too much, she was pretty sure that would stop the helping altogether.  Faith didn’t have much tolerance for her hanging around, and was probably in court today anyway.  Anyanka had told her in no uncertain terms to stop haunting the clientele.

 

_Guess that means you’re on your own, Buff._  She melted through the nearest stairway door and headed up to the apartment floor.

 

Since she kept boomeranging back to Wolfram and Hart whenever she tried to leave town, she figured it was just best to stay there, most of the time.  But the law firm was _boring_.  She didn’t need to sleep – for a while, she hadn’t dared – and she wasn’t quite consistently solid enough to work a remote control.  Wandering around had occupied her for a while, and in the course of her wanderings, she’d discovered the secret suite.

 

It probably wasn’t really a secret; in fact, it was spotlessly free of dust or dirt, so at least the cleaning staff knew it existed.  But Dru never went there, nor Anyanka or any of the others.  Darla still kept an apartment outside the building.  So, whenever Dru’s crew had made it clear she was being a pest, Buffy disappeared up here until she thought they might tolerate her again.

 

_It’s just like Sunnydale,_ she thought, _only worse, because now not only can I _not_ hit people, I can’t _leave.__

 

She phased through the door, settled carefully on the sofa and wished she could do something more than just _wish_ that she could feel how plush the carpet was.   It looked like it’d be wonderfully soft against bare feet.

 

Instead, she swung her booted feet onto the sofa and stretched out, staring up at the ceiling.

 

In a couple of minutes, her thoughts – as they nearly always did when she was still – drifted to Will.

 

_Wonder what he’s doing right now?_ She contemplated a few different options, and finally settled on something that kept Dawnie in line, kept Joyce off his back and the rest of the Scoobie club out of his business.  She chuckled at that last; the less Queen C and all the others knew about Will’s business, the better.  _Especially when I get all solid again.  Then I can leave this graciously appointed pit of evil and go see him and…_

 

There, her plans stopped short; she didn’t know what would happen when she saw him again.  _Did he mean it?_ The question was worn and familiar from the number of times she’d asked it and gotten no answer.  _Does he miss me? Would he be happy to see me if… I mean _when_… when I…_

 

Dru knew where he was, or had a phone number or something; there was one drawer of her desk that she kept locked all the time, even while she was there.  But she wouldn’t share it.  The last time Buffy had called her on it, Dru had just sighed, and Buffy couldn’t recall her grandsire ever looking so _old_ before.  “He deserves better than you,” she had said, and when Buffy had bristled, she had added, “He deserves better than me, too.”

 

Buffy had long since accepted that having a soul didn’t make up for all the deaths she’d caused over her long life.  There had been days back in Sunnydale where it had taken an immense effort to remember that Will believed in her, that he _trusted_ her, and part of that trust was that she wasn’t going to take a walk outside some nice sunny day.

 

_Okay, so… he trusts me,_ Buffy thought, and closed her eyes against the bland ceiling.  This, too, was a well-traveled track in her mind.  _Or he did, anyway.  And he cares about me… But just before the end, he kissed Dru, not me.  So… when he said he loved me, did he mean it like a friend?  Did he only say it because he knew I was going to die?_  She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes.  _God!  I wish I knew!_

 

_But what if…_

 

“No,” she said aloud.  “No, he meant it.  He loved me.  He _loves_ me.”

 

Even as she said it, though, the doubts continued to niggle at what confidence she had left.

 

_What if…_

 

***

A flash of light and suddenly, _bang!_ she was solid again.  It wasn’t the best moment of her life – that slot having already been filled – but it was the best moment since she’d gotten sucked back out of the amulet, and really, that was the most she expected.

 

Though it _was_ a bit embarrassing when she tried to walk through the door into Dru’s office, only to bounce off and fall on her butt.

 

Then, once she realized she was corporeal again, Buffy started to think about all the things she’d missed out on while ghostified.  Drinking, driving, having sex…  _I haven’t had sex in more than a year,_ she thought somewhat plaintively, and Riley was eyeing her like she was a bucket of candy, just like he’d always done.

 

Of course, about halfway through her shucking Riley’s pants off, he went crazy.  She laid him out and tied him up for good measure.  And while part of her screamed at the sex-us interruptus, there was an even bigger part of her that was glad she hadn’t had a chance to go through with it.

 

Because Will was still out there, maybe loving her.

 

For an hour or more after she cold-cocked Riley, Buffy wandered the building, just getting used to being _real_ again.  And as she walked, she kept coming back to one thing.

 

_I’m solid through. And because of that, I’m probably not tied to that stupid gaudy amulet anymore, and that’s _gotta_ be the reason I kept boomeranging back here whenever I tried to leave.  I’m _free.

 

_So why am I still here?_

 

She couldn’t come up with an answer for that one.

 

When she finally crossed Dru’s path, her grandsire dragged her along to listen to one of the multitude of lawyers that she had under her thumb, but she was still preoccupied with her thoughts.

 

_Getting re-bodified didn’t hardly hurt at all,_ she thought, half-listening to one of the lawyer spout off about that prophecy that Dru was supposedly all over. Or was it a shoe--shine?  Whichever. 

 

_Coming back out of the amulet as a ghost hurt about a billion times worse than this.  I wonder why?  And why did that hurt more than getting dusted in the first place?_

 

Then the lawyer said something about a vampire becoming human again, but only a vampire with a soul, and that’s when she really sat up and started to take notice.

 

And as soon as she heard that the Cup of Whatever was supposed to determine which vampire with a soul was the vampire of prophecy, she plotted out in her mind the quickest route to the garage where Dru kept her cars.

 

The hotwired Viper was roaring down the road and she was nearly in Nevada when it occurred to her to wonder why she was doing this.  Unconsciously, she lifted her foot off the accelerator a little.  _I always took pride in being what I am,_ she thought, watching the yellow stripe in the middle of the road morph into a dashed line.  _I was finally strong.  I could take what I wanted.  Then I could watch Will’s back, because I didn’t need to be protected like the others.  Am I really so willing to throw that all away?  Just to be human, when I’m not even sure that Will…_

 

_Maybe… if I’m human again, slate wiped clean and all… maybe Will really _will_ love me.  That must be why Dru wants it so bad._

 

She floored it again, and the night sped past her in a blur.  _Well, she can’t have it.  She wants it, she’ll have to take it over my dead… right.  Over my dust, then._

 

There were lots of sharp splinters of wood all about in the derelict opera house; it was a dangerous place for vampires to duel.  And as they fought back and forth, up and down, Buffy realized, despite all those years of hatred that lay between them, she didn’t really _want_ to kill her grandsire any more.

 

It was almost enough to beat her.  _Almost._

 

Except that the cup was a fake.  It was filled with something that might have been ambrosia, but turned out to be flat Mountain Dew, and she was still just as much a vampire as she was when she started.  Still as guilt-ridden, still as blood-thirsty, still as _dead._

 

She glanced down at the empty cup in her hand, and wondered why Will felt even further away than ever.

(To be continued in Chapter Two...)


	2. Chapter Two

*****

The lab where Connor spent most of his time was about the only place Buffy felt welcome, so whenever she needed some company, she dropped in to see him.

 

_Okay,_ she admitted as she pushed through the doors, _that’s not _entirely_ true, but come on.  There’s _no way_ I’m going to let Riley have another go after… after what happened the last time._  The guilt that still overwhelmed her in the wake of that incident – no matter if they’d actually finished having sex or not – had decided her weeks ago.  Riley was cute and so very willing… but he wasn’t Will.  And being with anyone who wasn’t Will (even if they hadn’t been together like _that_ in well over a year) was just… wrong.  _And that’s _not_ just the soul talking._

 

“Buffy!”

 

“What?” Her response was automatic, and it wasn’t until she registered the voice as that of her grandsire that she realized Connor wasn’t alone in the lab today.  The whole D-Day gang was there, and her heart sank.  _Oh, great,_ she groaned silently, _another chance to be the outsider._

 

“Hey, Buffy,” Connor greeted her a little absently.  His attention was focused on the small device he held as he walked slowly around the perimeter of a spell-circle scribed on the floor.  There was something inside the circle; if she glanced quickly out the corner of her eye, Buffy could just make out its movement.

 

“What are you doing here?” Dru demanded, and crossed her arms.  She was so close that Buffy knew that she’d nearly bumped into her.

 

Resentment, never far away when dealing with her grandsire, surged up instantly.  “Just making sure that your team doesn’t blow everything up,” she retorted, shoving her fists into her coat pockets.  “If it’s all gonna go boom, I want a head start so I can get out before the stampede.”  Connor gave her a hurt look, and she winced. “Sorry, cutie.”

 

“Yes, well, it’s _not_ all going to _go boom_,” Dru replied shortly.  “We’ve already got all the people we need to work on this portal, and if you stayed, I’d probably just have to pull you out of the vortex when you blundered through.  Why don’t you amuse yourself trying to pick the lock on my desk again?” she sneered.  “It was ever so much fun to see Security march you down to the holding cells.”

 

Somehow, Buffy managed to keep her expression calm, even as her anger boiled up to the surface.  _As the bitch intended, probably,_ she thought.  “Okay,” she said with a shrug.  “I’ll give that a whirl.  You just get on with your spell.  I’m sure it’s super-important to the guys in the big evil offices upstairs.”  She spun on her heel and strode away, shoulders hunched and hands still in her pockets.

 

Just before the lab door swung shut behind her, she thought she heard Darla ask, “Why are you always so hard on her?”

 

Whatever Dru said in reply was lost behind the door.  _At least Blondie is on my side,_ she thought,_ and Connor, too… well, I really should apologize first._

 

As soon as she was out of sight of the lab, she stopped, and pulled out her hand from her pocket.  A small ring of keys jingled merrily, dangling from her fingers.  She grinned.  “Serves ya right when I get his address, too, bitch,” she murmured, then swung the keys around in a circle around her finger before tucking them back in her coat. 

 

_Don’t know what I’ll do with it when I’ve got it,_ she thought, and her grip on the keys tightened.  _But at least I’ll have other options then… or maybe just _better_ ones than I got right now._

 

She was halfway to Dru’s office when it felt like the air pressure intensified around her, going from what had always been normal to very uncomfortable, like the time she’d been on the airplane and her ears had rung until they’d popped. 

 

Something grabbed hold of her and made the world wobble.  She stopped and closed her eyes, hoping that would clear her vision, but it didn’t.  The pressure around her increased, pressing on her heavily, until she began to fear she would be flattened.  It didn’t matter that she didn’t need to breathe; the air was being expelled from her lungs, and blind panic started to set in.

 

Then, quite suddenly, the pressure was gone.  She blinked, panting a little in reaction.  Looking around, she discovered that she was still in the corridor, just facing the other way.

 

Snickering, she turned around.  _All that just to make me turn around?_ she thought contemptuously.  _Someone’s got _way_ too much time on their hands if that’s the spell they’re working on._  She’d only gone a few steps when the smell tickled her nostrils and she froze.

 

_Oh, God… that’s his cologne._  She closed her eyes and just breathed it in, inhaling deeply, greedily, wearing a tiny wistful smile.  _Will, oh, Will… I miss you…_ Her heart seemed to wither inside her at the very thought of him, at the idea of being separated from him, even if it was because of her own choices now.

 

The door in front of her opened almost soundlessly, and she quickly composed herself, not wanting Dru – or anyone else – to catch her with her emotions so openly displayed.

 

But that thought disappeared from her head when she opened her eyes… because _he_ was standing right in front of her.  She gasped, eyes widening.  _I’m dreaming,_ she thought in a vague, distant way.  _I’ve got to be dreaming…_

 

“Buffy?”

 

The way he said her name never failed to make her knees weak – his deep voice with its fading accent, the way it seemed to caress her ears, even when he was furious.  It was all she could do to stand upright.

 

He’d changed his wardrobe, she noticed, in the second before she launched herself at him; he was wearing a long leather coat similar to her own, and a simple black tee-shirt beneath it, instead of the bright colors he normally wore.  But his hair still gleamed in the sun, and his eyes were just as blue and bright, and he still had the face of an angel.

 

Then she was against him, her hands on his cheeks, pulling his mouth to hers, though he didn’t seem to be fighting to get away this time.  She pressed hungry kisses against his lips, his cheeks, everywhere she could reach.

 

His arms were around her, his hands spread wide on her back, holding her close.  And oh, best of all, he was kissing her back, with all the intensity of his being, seemingly as starved for her as she was for him.

 

It was a long, blissful moment before she registered that the warmth she was used to feeling from him was missing, that his skin was cool against hers, that they were the same temperature.  She pulled her mouth from his and stared up at him in shock, but didn’t – couldn’t – move away from him.  “Will,” she breathed, stroking his cheek lightly, “oh, Will… what happened?”

 

He seemed to think there was something equally wrong, for he was frowning down at her, brow creased, though his fingers combed through her hair.  “Buffy, love,” and his accent was much stronger than she recalled, his voice heavy with the same sadness she felt, “when did it happen?” He didn’t let her go, either; he still held her as if he never wanted to let her go.

 

Anger simmered through her slowly, though not at him… or maybe just not _yet_ at him; she hadn’t quite decided that.  “Who turned you?” she demanded in her lowest, deadliest voice.  “Who was it and when and where can I find them? ‘Cause I’m gonna kill ‘em.”

 

His frown deepened.  “You already know who turned me, pet,” he replied, and damn if he didn’t use the very same tone on her that she’d just used on him.  “But that was _my_ question.”

 

“What?”

 

“When were you turned?  Couldn’t have been more than a few months ago…” Then he trailed off, staring at her.

 

“Baby, I’ve always been a vampire.  You know that.”  Now she was equally confused, and starting to become more than a little worried.  Whatever had happened to Will when he’d been turned… it seemed to have left him nearly as crazy as her sire.  It was breaking her heart, knowing that he could never be in the sun again, but insanity on top of that… it was too much to bear. 

 

Then another thought struck her, causing the rage to flare bright in her chest.  _Oh, God… please tell me that it wasn’t Dru, that she didn’t torture him like she did…_

 

“You weren’t a vampire in the Hellmouth!”

 

“I was too!”

 

“No, you bloody well were not!”

 

“Hey, I ought to be the one to know!”

 

He scoffed at her.  “Think I would have noticed that, pet!  What with the sun beamin’ down through the hole in the ceiling, channelin’ through the amulet and dustin’ all the Turok Han…”

 

She glared up at him, but didn’t move from his arms.  “And that’s exactly what happened, bleach boy!”

 

“… and then dustin’ me.”

 

“And, no.  It was me.  You ran…” She swallowed, trying to get a handle on the pain that still brought her, even months later.  “You ran when I told you…”

 

He was frowning heavily.  “No, _you_ ran…”

 

Slowly, her brain started to turn over his words, and she put her anger on pause.  “Wait a minute here.  Who gave you the amulet?”

 

“_You_ did, Slayer.”

 

She froze at hearing her pet name for _him_ falling from _his_ lips.  Understanding dawned slowly.  “But… _you’re_ the Slayer.”

 

Not a second later, they were standing three feet apart, having moved so quickly that Buffy wasn’t sure who had let go first.

 

And it seemed so utterly _wrong_ to be so far away from him, because it was _Will_, the man she loved with her whole being.  She’d felt that way ever since she’d given in to her feelings.  _And maybe he _is_ Will,_ she thought a bit sadly, studying him carefully, _but he’s not _my_ Will._

 

“So,” she said, attempting a cheerfulness she didn’t come close to feeling.  “I’m thinking that those folks who said that there were only hell dimensions – oh, and that one dimension without shrimp – had no idea what they were talking about.”  Then, recalling what she had felt just before her world had been knocked out from under her, she snorted.  “Huh.  Guess that spell or whatever it was that was trying to make me flat was more effective than I thought it was.”

 

The way his lips twisted could only be called a smile if one were feeling especially generous.  “Guess so.”  He couldn’t meet her eyes.

 

And the sight of his pain and discomfiture touched her, as it always did, and she reached out without thinking, trying to comfort him.  “Will…” She caught herself before she made contact, her fingers hovering over his leather-clad arm.  _Damn it, it’s not _wrong_!_ she thought fiercely._  He’s not _my_ Will but it’s not wrong to want to make him feel better…_

 

Still, the guilty feeling that she was somehow betraying Will by touching his look-alike here wouldn’t leave her, even as she stepped closer to him again.  Her hand on his arm wasn’t enough, and she leaned against him, wrapping her arms around him.  Before she realized what she was doing, she had her nose against his neck, breathing in the aroma of him again – so familiar and yet somehow different from what she remembered.  His face was in her hair, and she could hear him inhaling her scent as well.

 

Buffy had no idea where the tears came from.  She just knew that without warning, she was clinging to Will-but-not-Will, her fingers digging into the grain of his coat, sobbing quietly into his shoulder.  His hands threaded through her hair, stroked down her back, large and familiar and soothing.

 

She was drawing a trembling breath, about to step away and apologize for her breakdown, when she felt him shuddering against her and noticed a tell-tale dampness against her scalp.  Instead, she wrapped her arms around him even more tightly, trying to let him know that no matter how he felt, he wasn’t alone.

 

It was only a moment before he pulled back, wiping away the evidence of his tears with the heel of one hand.  The look he gave her from beneath his lowered lashes – half boyish embarrassment, half manly bravado – melted her.  She smiled warmly at him, feeling affection for this vampire she barely knew (and yet, knew all too well) fill her heart.

 

She wanted to brush away his tears herself, could see that same desire in him by the way his hands twitched.

 

_This isn’t going to be easy,_ she thought, and took a deep, steadying breath.  Softly, she said, “I think we really should talk.”

 

He nodded.  “’Spect you’re right, pet.”

 

“Got any good hidey-holes around here?”

 

He flashed her a smirk that was heart-wrenchingly recognizable and took her hand.  “I know just the place.”

 

***

Buffy looked around the lavish suite approvingly.  “Just like the ones back home.  I guess dimensions or universes or whatever doesn’t matter – evil law firms just gotta have the best.”  She kicked off her shoes and curled up in the corner of one of the plush sofas, watching as Will – _no_, she reminded herself sternly, _Spike, his name is_ Spike – removed two mugs from the microwave.

 

She reached eagerly for the mug he held out to her, wrapping her hands around it to let the warmth seep into her for a moment before taking a sip.

 

“That’s gonna take some gettin’ used to,” he commented, and sank down onto the opposite end of the sofa.  For a moment he stared at her, the mug in his hand clearly forgotten.

 

“No more so than from this end,” she replied, and briefly savored the taste and heat of the blood before gulping the rest of it.  She hated it when it got cold.

 

Spike tilted his mug, watching the blood swirl around in a lazy circle before nodding.  “Fair enough,” he replied, and tossed it back in a few swallows.

 

Neither of them looked at the other, and the blank television on the wall across from them reflected an empty sofa.

 

“So,” Buffy said, setting her empty mug next to the sofa’s leg, where she knew she’d be sure to forget it.  “Now that we’re all hidden away and out of sight, what do we do?  I mean, I said we should talk and yet here we are, not saying anything.”

 

“Not sure, pet,” he replied, and put his own mug down.  “Guess I don’t know either.”

 

“Do you suppose,” she began slowly, tracing one finger over the fabric of the sofa’s arm, “that it might help if we could, you know, actually _look_ at each other?”

 

Spike’s chuckle sounded the same as Will’s.  “I suppose it might.”

 

“I mean, I already had my breakdown out there in the hallway, so how could I possibly be any more embarrassed than that?”

 

“If I’d had any doubts before, I don’t now.  Seems like Buffys always have the same kind of babble, no matter what dimension they’re from.”

 

“I do _not…_”

 

“Yeah, you do.”

 

She risked a look.  He still looked like Will, but now – now that she knew what she was seeing – she noticed the heaviness in his eyes, the weight on his shoulders comprised of hundreds of deaths, and knew that it was the same as her own.  Different from the burden the Slayer had to protect the world.  _Not Will,_ she affirmed to herself.  _Spike._

 

That seemed to make it a little easier to swing around on her cushion to face him.  “Yeah?  So I guess Williams are skinny and snarky in every universe, then?” she said, and grinned.

 

“Not skinny where it counts, ducks,” he said, and curled his tongue behind his teeth.

 

She cast an appraising eye over him, lingering over his skin-tight black jeans.  “No, you definitely aren’t.”

 

He shifted under her gaze as if uncomfortable.  “An’ now I know you’re from another universe,” he said, looking away again.  “My… this dimension’s Buffy would have rolled her eyes an’ been disgusted.”

 

She sighed.  “Oh, doesn’t that sound familiar.  Actually,” she went on with a frown, “it sounds like we’ve been swapped.  Like… I’m you, kinda, and you’re my… er… you’re Will. Or something.”

 

“Brilliant,” he snorted.

 

“Oh, like you’re the great brain here,” she shot back.  “I don’t know for dimensions, but I know who does.  Skinny young kid, blue eyes, shaggy dark hair.  The real brains behind it all.  His name’s Connor.”

 

“Connor?  Can’t say as I know him,” he replied, then, seeing her face fall, quickly continued.  “But then, whoever’s in Wolfram and Hart where you’re from is probably not going to be the same as who’s here.”

 

She sighed.  “I suppose.  And look, we’re still dancing around all the issues we brought up in the hall.”  She studied him, then studied her fingers where they clenched in her lap.  “You wanna ask the tough question or you want me to?”

 

She wasn’t really keen on asking, and didn’t think he was either, from the way he swallowed almost convulsively.  Then, his voice very flat, he asked, “So… your Slayer said he loved you, did he?”

 

Relieved and upset all at once, she nodded, and went on with the story of _them_.  “And you told yours that she didn’t, but thanks.”

 

“And you came back as a ghost, tied to that bloody stupid Liz Taylor bauble.”

 

“And now you’re solid, but you’re still here, caught up in helping the others do the impossible.”

 

“And you want to be with him…”

 

“But you don’t know how.”

 

“Yeah.”  He glanced at her from the corner of one eye.  “Your grandsire do a head-case on you like mine does on me?  All this _‘she’s too good for you’_ thing?”

 

Her mouth twisted.  “Oh, yeah.  She’s one of the best for that.”

 

“The thing… the bloody stupid point of it is… I can’t say he’s not right.”  The way he was slumped into the cushions, Buffy thought she had never seen a man look so very defeated as Spike did.

 

She leaned back into her own corner, drawing up one knee and wrapping her arms around it.  “That’s it.”

 

They said nothing for a long moment.  Then, his voice tight, Spike asked, “Right, so there’s the big confession.  Now what?”

 

Buffy shrugged.  “I have no clue.  I was hoping you would.”

 

Slowly, he relaxed.  “Sorry.”

 

“Believe me, it’s all right.”

 

Again, silence descended on them.  It was a long while before Buffy spoke again.  “I wonder sometimes,” she said, and startled herself at how loud her voice sounded.  “You know,” she continued in a quieter tone, “what would have happened if I hadn’t said… what I said.”

 

“He would have stayed,” Spike said, answering the question she hadn’t known she was asking.  “He would have stayed, because he wanted to be loved.”

 

She nodded.  “That’s what I thought.  I’d rather that he be alive.  He was dead once, and…”

 

“And it was utter Hell.”  He offered her a crooked smile, and suddenly, she wished she could see Will’s rare smile, the one that melted her heart with its absolute sweetness.  “Been there, love.  I know whereof you speak.”

 

“Do you get all tangled up in your own thoughts, too? Like… is it better to stay here and fight on the inside and be away from her… or should you go to her and…”  She shook her head, unable to finish that thought aloud.  Instead, she said, “And you know what? I never thought I was a coward before, but I know I am now.  I mean, I’m not gonna slingshot back here if I try to leave town now, right?  I proved it when I peeled out for Nevada and the Cup of Eternal Stupidity.  I want to be with him, but… I’m afraid too, you know?” she finished in a whisper.

 

Spike’s hands were clenched so tightly into fists his knuckles had turned white.  “Yeah, love,” he replied in the same tone.  “Yeah, I do.”

 

“So I stay here with the bitch, and I miss him like all the damn time, but I never actually _do_ anything about it.  It’s like… like I’m stuck on pause.  He said he loved me, and now I can’t move on from that.  Completely stuck there, because…”

 

“Because as long as I don’t see her, she can’t take it back.”  He looked at her, and his eyes were brilliantly blue, shining with tears again.

 

She swallowed, trying to hold back her own tears.  “Yeah,” she murmured.  “Yeah.  I knew you’d get it.  Sucks, don’t it?”

 

“Beyond the telling of it, as the Slayer would say.”

 

Buffy managed a tremulous smile.  “Yeah, that sounds like me.  Her.  Me.”

 

One side of his mouth curled upward slightly, a hint of humor she desperately needed to see.  “Dimension hopping is hard stuff, innit?”

 

“You got it.  All kinds of weirdness and emotional distress… and it’s not easy on me, either.”  She blew out a breath and watched her bangs flutter.  “I, for one, could use a hug.”

 

“A… hug?” Spike blinked at her, and she thought he might have gone a shade paler.

 

“Yeah, a hug.  You’ve heard of them, haven’t you?  You put your arms around another person and squeeze gently?”

 

“Oh, ha bloody ha.”  He turned away, crossing his arms.

 

“Hey,” she said softly, just to get his attention.  Then she lifted a hand to point back and forth between the two of them.  “This? This is _hard_.  You’re _like_ him, but you’re _not_ him, and it’s the same for you with me.  And we haven’t seen them since everything went down in the Hellmouth, and we’ve only got someone else’s word they’re okay, and…” Her voice broke a little.  “And I, for one, would really just like to pretend for a little while,” she finished, her words barely audible.

 

Immediately, Spike opened his arms, and she pressed herself against his side, inhaling the scent of him once more.

 

It wasn’t right.

 

_It’s nice, _she thought,_ no disputing that, but it’s just… not the same._

 

Because her head on Will’s shoulder, his arm around her… that should have felt _right_.

 

_It must be because it’s not _really_ Will,_ she decided.  And it wasn’t any easier for Spike, or so she guessed, because his muscles were just as tense as her own.

 

“So,” she whispered, “this is really awkward, isn’t it?”

 

Spike huffed a short laugh.  “It is at that, pet.  Want I should let you go?”  He made no move to lift his arm, though.

 

Immediately, she shook her head.  “Nah.  It’s good to be held for a little while.”

 

His embrace tightened slightly, and slowly he relaxed against her.  “Yeah, you’re right.”

 

After only a few minutes, however, the suite door flew open and they scrambled away from each other in automatic reaction. 

 

“Spike!” Angel stormed in, leaving the door open behind him.  “Haven’t you heard the alarms going off?  There’s a…”  He looked at her and stopped mid-tirade.  “Buffy?”

 

Here was a danger she felt she knew well, at least, and she let herself slip back in time a little.  “Hi, Angel,” she said softly, getting to her feet.  “It’s been a while.  How are you?”

 

Angel stared at her in confusion.  “Buffy?  Is that you?”  His mouth slowly dropped open, and he blinked.

 

She quickly bit back the _Well, who do you _think_ it is_ that leapt to her tongue.  “Yes, it’s me.  What’s going on?” 

 

Behind her, she heard Spike unhurriedly standing up, and then his hand descended on her shoulder, the lightest of touches.  “Pet…”

 

As soon as Spike moved, however, Angel’s attention diverted back to him, and without warning, he vamped out.  “You!” he hissed through his fangs.  “You did this!”

 

“What?”

 

“Did what?”

 

“There’s a vampire loose in the building,” Angel said, advancing on them.  “An _unauthorized_ vampire, which means it isn’t you or me, and _that_ means it’s evil.  I come up here to get your help, and find you with Buffy… and she’s a vampire!”

 

“Duh!” Buffy muttered under her breath, trying unsuccessfully to get in between Spike and Angel.  She wasn’t using her full strength against either of them, though.  Like Will, Spike wouldn’t back down, and Angel was close enough that they were nose to nose.  “Back off, Angel!”

 

“So, if she’s a vampire,” Angel went on, “and she’s here in the building where there’s an _unauthorized_ vampire, that means she’s the one the alarms are about… and _you_ did it!  You _turned_ her, you son of a bitch!”

 

“I bloody well did not!”

 

Buffy chuckled, and drew both sets of eyes back to her.  “I’m sorry, Spike, he’s really off today.”

 

_“Off?”_ Angel demanded, still in his fangs.

 

“What do you mean, pet?”

 

“Extra with the crazy today.  I mean, I haven’t seen him this bad in a long time, not since what happened in Budapest.  For a while there, he had days where he didn’t make any sense at all, just mumbled all day about hearing the banshee, and seeing fae creatures in the cobwebs… One time, he swore up and down he saw a waterhorse. That was a bad day, and it was all I could do to calm him down.  He was almost all right when he came to Sunnydale a couple of years ago… but I’m kinda out of practice at deciphering what he means… what?” Suddenly she became aware that they were both staring at her strangely.  Angel’s human mask slid over his features again.

 

“Slay…” Spike paused, then started again.  “Buffy, do you mean to say that…”

 

“My sire is nutty as a fruitcake? You betcha.”  She looked back and forth between them again.  “What?”

 

Spike was biting his lip, and his smirk could absolutely not be contained.  “Pet… you do remember you’re not in _your_ dimension, right?”

 

Buffy blinked, then groaned and covered her eyes with one hand.  “Please excuse me while I wait for the ground to swallow me up.”  Taking a deep breath, she turned back to Angel and said, “I’m so sorry, Angel… er… you _are_ Angel, right?  ‘Cause in _my_ dimension – which, as Spike has so thoughtfully reminded me, is where I am _not_ – you are… well, a little bit on the insane side.  With an extra side of visions, which is why my grandsire turned you in the first place, but she drove you crazy when she did it.  Dru always had to go for the gusto,” she muttered.

 

Angel put a hand to his forehead, which was wrinkled in confusion.  “You’re not _my_ Buffy?”

 

“Not _your_ Buffy at all, you ponce,” Spike mumbled.

 

Buffy grinned briefly as Angel glared past her at him, but forced herself to resume her most earnest and innocent _I’m-not-_really_-in-trouble-am-I?_ expression when that dark gaze slewed back to her.  “No, I’m not from this dimension at all,” she replied cheerily.  “But I _am_ Buffy.  Pleased to meet you?” She held out one hand hopefully.

 

Spike coughed behind her, and she fought the urge to jab him in the stomach with her elbow.  _I’m working here,_ she thought with some exasperation, _and you’re _not_ helping!_

 

But she hadn’t developed any psychic powers in the past few minutes, and this dimension’s Angel, over whom she had _no_ control whatsoever, damn it, had finally had enough of the subtle fun that she was poking.  Moving lightning fast, he grasped her wrist.

 

“Hey!”  She struggled against his hold, but he only tightened it until she could feel the bones grating against each other.  “Okay, _ow_…”

 

“Angelus!” Spike swung a blow at the arm by which Angel was holding Buffy captive, trying to take him by surprise, but Angel swiftly blocked it, then used Spike’s surprise to push him away.  He stumbled a few steps back.  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

 

“I’m sorry… Buffy,” Angel said, not sounding a bit apologetic as he dragged her out of the suite.  “But until we can confirm your story, we’re going to have to lock you up.”

 

“Oh, no!” she said, and dug in her heels. “Go ahead and break my wrist,” she went on when he tightened his grip once more, “but you are _not_ locking me up!”

 

“Let her go!” Spike followed them into the corridor, and leapt at Angel, tackling him from behind.

 

At the moment that Angel hit the floor, Spike snarling and game-faced on top of him, the elevator doors opened, and a squad of security guard stepped out, each one armed with a crossbow.  Buffy, about to go to Spike’s aid, froze, half a dozen wooden quarrels aimed at her heart.  The rest had Spike in their sights.

 

Seeing that, Spike growled and reluctantly lifted himself off Angel.  One of his fists was smeared with blood across the knuckles.

 

Angel was a bit unsteady as he climbed back to his feet.  Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.  He blotted it with the back of one hand, and gave a glower promising a comeuppance at Spike.  Then he sneered quite nastily at Buffy.  “Ladies first.”

 

Less than five minutes later, Buffy was staring at the walls of a cell that was barely big enough for three steps across.  A camera watched her every move from just outside the invisible barrier, and she was reminded almost forcefully of the Initiative.

 

With a sigh, she sat down one corner and tilted her head back to rest against the wall, staring at the white corridor through slitted eyes.

 

She’d already thought up and discarded about six escape plans, none of which she knew would work.  Now all she could think was, _At least _my _crazy Angel never would have locked me up like this…_

(To be continued in Chapter Three...)


	3. Chapter Three

*****

She had nearly fallen asleep when she heard her name hissed from outside the cell.  “Buffy!”

 

“Will,” she murmured, smiling, eyes still closed.  “Sure, baby, anything you want…”

 

_“Buffy!_  Wake _up!”_

 

“Hmm?”  She opened her eyes and frowned on seeing Will, hair slicked back, cheekbones too sharp, wearing a long leather coat…

 

Then memory flooded back and she sat upright, staring.  “Oh!  Spike!”

 

He rolled his eyes.  “Bloody good thing I’ve already disabled the camera,” he muttered.  He swiped a card through a slot on the panel next to her cell, and the barrier between her and freedom disappeared.  “Come on,” he said, holding a hand out to her.

 

She took it and stepped over the line where the barrier had been. Despite the fact that his hand was as cool as her own, it felt just like when Will had taken her hand in the cavern; they had the same long fingers and strong hands, even the same calluses on their palms.  She squeezed his hand tighter.

 

Spike worked the panel again and replaced the barrier, then pulled her toward the exit to the cell block.

 

She noticed other cameras trained on the other cells, and asked, voice low, “Aren’t those others on, too?”

 

He glanced in the direction she indicated and shook his head.  “Head of security says they only turn ‘em on when there’s someone inside a cell.  We should be safe.”

 

Buffy groaned inwardly at that, and waited for the alarms to go off, because in all the movies she’d watched, that was the trigger for something to immediately go wrong.  She was surprised, however, when they made it to the side stairs without incident.

 

It had that sense that all stairwells in big office buildings had – musty and dingy, with a slightly unfinished look.  Nobody wanted to use the stairs when there was the sleek, super-fast elevator.

 

“Here are your shoes,” he said, surprising her; she’d forgotten she had taken them off.  He pulled one out of each pocket, and waited while she stamped back into them.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Welcome.  Come on, pet.  Something’s going on, and I think it’s to do with you.”  Spike was still holding her hand, and tugged her up the stairs behind him.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“Gonna go see if Science Gal can figure out a way to send you back to your own dimension.”

 

Buffy stuck out her lower lip a little.  “You’re tired of me already?”

 

“What?” Spike twisted around to look at her, and they came to a stop.  “No, pet, that’s not it,” he said gently, and reached out to touch her cheek, then stopped, remembering.  “Angel’s all in a dither ‘cause he’s had the Slayer being watched, and now it looks like she’s disappeared.  In his tiny little mind, he’s decided that someone turned the Slayer and you’re her.  The only reason I’m not dust again is because he’s decided that I haven’t been out from under his eye long enough to turn anybody, much less Buffy, wherever she is… was across the pond.”  Unmistakable bitterness crept into his tone on the last few words.

 

She squeezed his hand again, and he twitched slightly, as if he’d forgotten they were still connected.

 

He didn’t let her go, though; just turned and started pulling her up the stairs once more.

 

“If your Slayer disappeared,” Buffy reasoned slowly, following him, “does that mean that she got pushed through to _my_ dimension?”

 

“I don’t know for sure,” he said.  “Have to run it by Fred.  Sounds likely to me, but we all know who is an’ isn’t the brains around here.”  Looking back at her over his shoulder, he arched a knowing eyebrow.

 

She grinned back at him.  “Yeah, yeah.  We’re just the muscle.  I’ve know that for, like, _ever_.”

 

“Just hope we can do this quick,” Spike said when they reached the top of the stairwell.  “She does tend to get sidetracked, and we’re only going to have a little longer before Angelus realizes you’ve scarpered.”

 

She crept out into the darkened hall with some surprise; she hadn’t realized night had fallen.  _Been on day schedule for so long I never even knew the sun had set_.  With a glance in either direction, she got her bearings and stepped down the hall.

 

Unfortunately, Spike had stepped in the opposite direction.  Between them, they’d nearly jerked their own arms from their appropriate sockets.

 

“What the flaming hell are you doing?” Spike demanded, trying to keep his voice low.  “The lab is this way!”

 

“No, it’s not!” she hissed back.  “It’s _this_ way!”  She pulled on his arm in the direction she wanted to go.

 

“You’re cracked, Slay… Buffy.  That’s back toward Angel’s office. It’s this way.”  He gave a quick yank that she should have been expecting but wasn’t.  She stumbled toward him, and they were on their way.

 

She couldn’t keep from arguing, though.  “Spike, it’s the other way, seriously.”

 

“Maybe in your dimension it is, love, but not here.”

 

A few seconds later, they rounded the corner, and Buffy saw the pristine white doors to the laboratory.  With some ill-grace, she stopped resisting, muttering about know-it-all-bleached-blonds who think they’re _so_ smart.

 

Somehow – she wasn’t exactly sure how, because his expression was just brimming over with smugness – Spike refrained from saying _I told you so._ 

 

There was still a light on, visible from the door.  “Fred?” Spike called, pushing the door open.  “You here?”

 

“What if she’s not?” Buffy whispered, hanging closer to him than his own shadow.

 

“We just head on down to see Percy.  He’ll likely know where she is.”

 

They rounded one set of lab benches, and Buffy saw a girl scribbling on a note pad.  She was muttering to herself as she worked.

 

“Fred?” Spike said, just loudly enough to grab her attention.

 

She jumped, her pencil skittering across the paper.  “Oh!”  Then she turned around and sagged a little on seeing Spike.  She didn’t seem to even notice Buffy.  “Oh, hi, Spike,” Fred said with a lopsided smile.  At first, with the long brown hair tumbling down her back, Buffy thought it was Faith, then she realized that this girl wasn’t shaped _anything_ like Faith.  She was almost impossibly slim and wore severe science-y glasses besides.  “Angel is still on the warpath, so you might want to… who’s that?” Her gaze focused on Buffy, still hiding behind Spike’s shoulder.

 

Except Spike chose that moment to step aside, and Buffy gave a desultory little wave.  “Fred, this is Buffy.”

 

Fred scrambled off her stool, staring.  “Buffy?  You mean… the Slayer?  That girl who died and came back and got turned into a… and Angel had her locked up?”

 

Buffy was about to open her mouth to reply, but Spike beat her to it.  “Actually, this Buffy is from a different dimension.  She’s the vampire that Captain Forehead was on about earlier.”

 

“From… a different dimension?”  Fred pushed her glasses up on her nose so they were seated properly.  “Really?”  Finally, she addressed Buffy directly.  “You’re not all _grr_, are you?” she asked, making a vague approximation of a game face, her hands curled into claws.

 

“No,” she replied, smiling in spite of herself.  “Not all grr.  I think you’re safe with us.”

 

“Oh, good,” the girl replied, and settled back down at her lab bench.  “That means I can get back to work on…”

 

“Fred, luv,” Spike interrupted, before she lost herself in her task once more.  “We were hopin’ that you could flip Buffy here back into her own dimension.”

 

“Like before your Angel really goes over the edge and stakes me?”  She shuddered, and it wasn’t just for show.  “I’d really rather not go through that again, y’know?”

 

Fred looked at her with sympathy.  “Yeah, from what we saw of Spike’s resurrection, it wasn’t any kinda picnic.  ‘Least not one _I’d_ want to go to, and I’ve been to some pretty awful ones in my time…”

 

“Right.  So.  Sending me back to my own universe?  I don’t mean to rush you, but now would be good.”

 

Fred didn’t answer her, however.  She pulled out a gadget and started scanning Buffy up and down, and Buffy was rocked back to how Connor had done the same thing to her.

 

The gadget beeped, and Fred peered at it over her glasses.  “Oh, this is an easy one!  I haven’t had an easy one in _forever_.  You’re the one who’s causing the rift I detected after the spell this morning.”

 

“A rift?”  When Fred transferred her gaze from the electronic device to her, she eeped.  “I didn’t mean to!” she whined.  She knew she looked and sounded pathetic by the way Spike smirked at her words.  She stuck her tongue out at him.

 

“What do you mean by _easy_, then?” Spike asked, deciding that ignoring her bad behavior was the best policy.  “Can’t think of a time when things have ever been _easy_ here.”

 

“Well, okay, I’ve gotta agree with you there,” Fred said, lowering her scanner.  “Usually it’s all uphill battles and running out of time and remember the Alamo around here.  And yes, the rift _is_ getting bigger, but it’s not huge.  I think if we send alter!Buffy back through it, it’ll turn out fine.”

 

“So I just gotta throw myself back through this rift?  That’s it?”

 

“Yep.” Fred nodded.  “That’s it.  Easier than pie.”

 

“So… where is it?  How am I gonna find it?”  _Jeez,_ Buffy thought, forcing down the urge to tap her foot.  _Getting information from this girl’s like pulling teeth.  I’m glad Connor isn’t like this._

 

“It’s a puppy-dog,” Fred replied, like that made everything plain.

 

After a moment of no further explanation forthcoming, Buffy asked, “So, uh… a puppy-dog?”

 

“Oh, yeah, you know, like a little lost puppy, all big eyes and take me home with you?  It started out in one of the corridors, then it drifted up into the penthouse section, and hovered outside the cages…”

 

“Hey, those are all the places I’ve been!”

 

“Yeah,” Fred said, giving her a bright smile.  “It’s been followin’ you around, all puppy-dog-like.”

 

“I’ve never had a puppy before…”

 

“You don’t have one now, pet,” Spike said.  “Just an overly friendly portal that would probably like to go home and take a nap.”

 

“You,” she said, poking him in the chest, “are a pain in my derrière.”

 

“Just like old times,” he replied with a grin.

 

She rolled her eyes and turned back to Fred, who was watching them with interest.  “So… how can I find my puppy-portal-home?”

 

“It’s kind of hovering right behind you.  Just turn around.”

 

Buffy spun around, and saw a bright mote behind her, just as Fred said, kind of like a firefly, bobbing at about shoulder height.  “Oookay, so how do I get through that?  You got Alice’s incredible shrinking-drink or something?”

 

Fred flushed, and her hands fluttered distractedly.  “So that’s the part I hadn’t quite figured out yet,” she said, her voice pitched a little higher.

 

She stared at the gently dancing dot, the urgency to get back home churning in her stomach, because she didn’t want to face this dimension’s nasty Angel any time soon.

 

The rift flashed.

 

“Hey, didja see that?” she asked over her shoulder without looking away from the portal.

 

“Yeah, we did,” Spike said.  “Go on, gadget girl.”

 

“It’s bigger,” Fred said, and Buffy could hear her fiddling around with her electronic thing.  “Not much, but it’s definitely bigger.  Whatever you did, do it again.”

 

So she kept on staring at it, until it flashed again, and this time, she could _see_ that it was bigger.

 

“So that’s how it works,” Fred murmured.  Buffy heard the soft scratch of pencil on paper again.  “It’s linked to you, ‘cause you came through it, but it’s really similar to the portal we were trying to create here with our spell.”

 

Buffy blinked, and glanced away from the rift, now the size of an orange.  “You guys were doing a spell too?”

 

Fred looked up from her paper, her face suddenly alight with excitement.  “Too?  You mean, they were doing a spell on your side?  Wow, such synchronicity is amazing!  How come you were the only one transported?”

 

“Uh… I don’t know?  I was the only one who wasn’t really involved with the spell.  Dru kicked me out before they finished it.”  Buffy turned back to the portal, still hovering, and it swelled to the size of a grapefruit.

 

Just then, a klaxon blared to life outside the lab, and lights started to strobe in warning.

 

“Uh, pet, I hate to hurry you, but you’re gonna have to move it along,” Spike said, sounding a little worried.  “I think Angelus just discovered you’re not where he put you.”

 

“Yeah, I know, I’m workin’ on it,” Buffy said, her tone clipped.  _Concentrating on this puppy is hard…_

 

Then _boom!_ It seemed to tap into her increased urgency and ballooned up to a size that a human-sized form could fit through.  “Whoa,” she breathed, “didn’t know _that_ could happen.”

 

Fred stepped up beside her, staring at the glimmering portal, faintly blue and crackling with energy.  “Wow.  That went better than I thought it would!”

 

“What?” Buffy stared at her in disbelief.

 

Again, Fred’s cheeks turned red.  “Well, I’d never seen one like this before!  I didn’t know how it was going to work…”

 

“Fred, be a love and see if you can head Angel off at the pass, yeah?”  Spike nudged her toward the door.  “Don’t want him keepin’ this Buffy from goin’ home, which might keep our Buffy from comin’ back.”

 

“Oh!  Right!  Angel said she’d disappeared… that’s why he thought you were her… or…”

 

“Fred?” The impatience in Spike’s tone definitely called Will to Buffy’s mind. _Well,_ she thought, grinning a little goofily, _not like that’s _difficult_ at all…_

 

“Right, going.  Heading off at the pass, Captain.”  She bustled out the door.

 

“Before you go, pet…”  All he had to do was open his arms a little, and she was embracing him again, as tightly as she had when she’d still thought him Will.

 

“You know, as freaky as this was,” she said, letting the words be muffled against his chest, “I’m really glad I met you.”

 

He held her a little closer.  “Yeah, me, too.”  His words rumbled through his chest, and she shivered a little, as a little tingle of arousal uncurled in her stomach.  “Wish you could stay, but…”

 

“But there’s a Slayer that needs to get home,” she finished, and stepped away.  “Gotcha.”

 

Spike cleared his throat.  “You know, my Buffy’s the bravest person I’ve ever met.  She’d face down a thousand demons an’ only care about the mess they made of her clothes.  But feelings… they scare her.  Don’t let yours scare you, pet.”

 

She swallowed down the lump in her throat.  “I’ll try not to,” she managed.  “Sometimes it’s hard, though, you know?”

 

“Yeah, I do.”  He rocked on his feet, rubbed a hand at the back of his neck, then met her gaze again.  “This bloke – your Slayer?  He’s like me, right?  In some ways, I mean,” he amended off her raised eyebrow.  “Well, if that’s true, then he _meant_ it when he said he loved you.  I don’t think there’s a me… a William anywhere who wouldn’t fall in love with you… er, _a_ Buffy once he’s met you.  Ah, hell.  You know what I mean, though?”

 

Buffy smiled.  “I think so.  But if that’s the case, that means _your_ Slayer meant it when she told you she loved you.”

 

Immediately, Spike shook his head.  “No.  She didn’t… not like how I wanted her to mean it.”

 

She slapped his arm hard.

 

“Ow!”  He scowled at her, rubbing at the offended limb.  “Violent little bint…”

 

“I think I know me as well as you know you!” she said with some heat.  “So why would you think that your Slayer didn’t mean it, then turn around and say that mine did?”

 

Spike looked away, peering off into the far corner of the lab.  “Did a lot of things to Bu – to my – to the Slayer,” he replied quietly.  “I never meant to hurt her, but somehow I always did.”

 

“And so did I to Will.  But if you tell me Will still loves me…” She trailed off.  “Well, it only stands to reason.”  She stepped backwards.  “Good luck, William,” she offered, and turned around.

 

The portal still danced, and she stumbled when she stepped through.  She felt herself start to fall, and, chagrinned, thought, _What a way to make an exit…_

 

***

She landed face down on the laboratory floor.  “Ow…”

 

“Buffy? Is that you?”  Connor popped up, staring at her wide-eyed over the row of lab benches.  “You’re back!”

 

She sat up, gingerly touching her nose to make sure it wasn’t broken. “Yeah, I’m back.”

 

As she did, the alarms started ring.  “Oh, not _this_ again,” she muttered.  “My ears hurt.”

 

Connor winced.  “Sorry,” he said, making his way around the lab bench to where she had landed.  “But Dru revoked your authorized status when she discovered you were missing.  Maybe she just wanted to know when you came back.”

 

“Not your fault, cutie,” she said, and somehow managed to climb to her feet.  “You can’t help it that she is what she is.  I guess I’ll wait here for Security,” she added, and plunked down onto one of the stools.  “Wouldn’t want them to have to _work_ to find me, would we?”

 

Connor grinned, then yawned hugely.  “Yeah, guess you’re right.  See you in the morning?”

 

“You betcha.”  She could already hear the pounding of feet out in the corridor.

 

Connor could, too, by the way he cocked his head.  “I’m glad you’re back, Buffy,” he said, just as Security burst through the door.

 

It choked her up a little.  “Thanks, sweetie.”  She stood up, hands raised and non-threatening.  “So we’ve been through this before, boys,” she told the Security detail.  “Just take me to see Grandma Dru.  I won’t put up a fight, I swear.”

 

“Yeah,” one of them muttered, prodding her with his gun.  “That’s what you said the last time.”  He still bore traces of what had been a beauty of a shiner.

 

“Yeah, it is,” she replied, as chipper as she could manage.  “But it was a great dance, wasn’t it?”

 

It was double-time march all the way to Dru’s office.  _Guess they really _don’t_ want me to try anything this time,_ she thought.

 

Dru, of course, had lots to say, and she said it as loudly as she could. 

 

Buffy stood in front of her desk like a schoolchild called to task in front of the teacher.  She nodded from time to time, whenever it sounded like Dru had paused in her tirade, but her thoughts were definitely elsewhere.

 

_Don’t be afraid of my emotions, he said,_ she thought, picturing Spike, but still seeing Will instead.  _Don’t be afraid of what I feel.  That’s what I have been doing… making excuses because I’m scared.  It’s not just what if he doesn’t love me how I want him to, it’s also what if he does?  What if we’re equals now?_

 

_What if all I’ve done is wasted a lot of time _here_ when I could have been with him?_

 

_You know what?  Knowing can’t be any harder than _not_ knowing._

 

At last, her mind was made up.  Determination in every line of her face, she stared at her grandsire across the broad desk.  “Dru… I need Will’s number.”  She held out the key ring she’d swiped before her dimension-tripping fandango.

 

Dru studied her for only a moment, then her shoulders slumped.  She took the keys and unlocked the special drawer, and after a brief hesitation, ripped a page from the slim address book hidden there.  “Here.”

 

Buffy took it eagerly.  “Thank you.”

 

“You can use the phone in here,” Dru said, standing, and Buffy could hear how sadness and regret weighted her down.

 

“Dru,” she said, just as her grandsire reached the door.  “Really.  Thank you.”

 

Drusilla managed a tiny smile.  “You’re welcome.  Just… make him happy.”  Then the door closed behind her.

 

Buffy’s fingers danced over the phone pad.  When it started ringing on the other end, she wished there was a cord she could fiddle with, and settled for doodling on Dru’s notepad.

 

_“This had bloody well better be important.”_

 

She smiled.  She’d heard the same voice and everything from Spike just a half hour ago, but this?  This was _so_ much better.  It was _real_.

 

“Hey, Will.  It’s Buffy…”

 

***

July 31, 2009


End file.
